Birdsong
by Garver
Summary: Faced with another Carnival Corpse, Ganta decides to escape Deadman Wonderland with his new acquaintance Minatsuki Takami. But there's a side of her that he hasn't seen yet, and he still has much to learn about the Branches of Sin. AU, branching from their escape attempt, with a touch of fan-theory. Rated M for violence, language, and sexuality.
1. Chapter 1

"C'mon, let's escape!" His own words still rang clearly in his ears, as if he had just said them. "We'll leave this place, go back to the real world!" What on earth was he thinking when he said that? He'd seen how locked down the prison was, especially when it came to G Block. No one came in, no one went out. Until today. They had the willpower, they had the motivation, and they had the innocence to get by in the normal world.

Well, he might not. He was some twisted kind of celebrity now. Everyone in Nagano - maybe even all of Japan - knew his face. And where could they go? Tokyo was still a barren wasteland, a shell of its former self. They didn't just have to make it out of the park; there was an entire city to escape.

But they could worry about that later. For now, escaping Deadman Wonderland was priority number one.

Ganta's eyes darted around the hallway. What little light crept through the walls was barely enough to see five feet in front of him. Minatsuki followed him in tow, her wrist enveloped in his grip. "You sure you know where we're going?" she asked.

"Not really," he answered. "I'm sort of making this up as I go."

"Well, _that's_ reassuring."

He racked his brain for something, for anything. He'd found his way into G Block once already, so how could he get out?

_All you have to do is nudge the grates out of the way and you can go anywhere!_

The ventilation system! They'd taken it into the sewers of the prison and onto the war path in G Block. When they met the Crow. But he was tranquilized when they took him in... there wasn't a chance in hell that he could remember the way they dragged him.

"Look out!"

She caught his attention, as did the crashing sound of broken steel from overhead. He looked up, the falling pipes descending onto the two adolescents. Instinctively, he lunged toward Minatsuki, forcing their bodies into the wall. An edge of the beam sliced into the leg of his pants, tearing a hole in the fabric.

They collapsed against the wall. After a few moments, Ganta opened his eyes. That scent from before flooded his nostrils. It was the aroma from her room, of all the different varieties of flowers she kept with her. A softer skin brushed against his face. "Um..." Her voice was a whisper, accented with a tinge of embarrassment. It was only then when he realized just where his face was buried.

His cheeks flushed bright red, and he scrambled away from her onto his hands. "Uh... um..." His face stiffened, trying to find something to say. _Dammit, why didn't I pay attention to Yamakatsu more often?_

She pulled the collar of her shirt further up her shoulders, protecting her modesty, and patted down her dress as she stood. "Just... let's keep moving, yeah?" He accepted her extended hand, and she pulled him to his feet. Something inside him said that she could be trusted. She was different from the other Deadmen. Caring, sincere... honest.

"I... I think I might know a way out." He looked down the rest of the hallway. Surely a way out was somewhere along these walls. "You alright with getting your hands dirty?"

Minatsuki nodded. "If it means we can get out of here, any day."

"Alright. We need to get into the vents or sewers. I think we can take those outside." He turned on his heel, granting the same offer she'd given him. It was all that he could do, and she had to trust him if she wanted to get out of this hell. She gave him her wrist, and they took off again.

The dank walls flashed by in a blur. Droplets of water fell from overhead, leaking through the poorly maintained structures. As if they had a reason to care about scum like them anyways. In this world, survival was the only game you really played. If you couldn't stand on your own, then the living conditions were the least of your worries.

"Hey!" The gruff voice echoed down the corridor, ringing through their ears. "What are you two doing out here?"

Ganta turned his head, keeping up the pace. A lone guard had drawn his rifle, aiming at the runaways. He fired a few rounds at their feet, but neither runaway wavered. Ganta bit his thumb hard, a trickle of blood running down his wrist. Throwing Minatsuki behind him, he pooled it together in his palm, launching a single bullet at the guard. The guard clicked a small switch on the hand guard of his rifle and fired again. A blast of compressed air ripped Ganta's bullet apart, reducing it to nothing more than a splatter on the floor.

"Minatsuki, get back!" Ganta released her from his grip, gathering another sample of his blood. He held his wrist steady and attacked, sending a flurry of shots flying at their pursuer. The guard sheathed his rifle and pulled a small knife from his hip. With a series of swings, each bullet dissipated just like the first.

Ganta felt himself growing weaker. He hadn't eaten since before Senji's penalty game, and anemia was starting to set in. "Why isn't it working?" he growled. "How is he he doing that?"

Minatsuki tugged on his arm. It was her turn to play leader. She pulled him back. "Don't try and fight him! Let's just get out of here!"

She was right, and he knew it. They turned and ran, taking what little time they had before the guard could start chasing again. A connecting hallway lay just ahead. Ganta cut hard to his left, pulling both of them into the hallway. They stood flat against the wall. Fear started to overcome Ganta. How was he supposed to fight back? "What are we gonna do?" he asked under his breath.

Minatsuki turned her gaze toward him, watching him panic out of the corner of her eye. She wanted to play leader, and now was her chance. She tapped him on the shoulder and put a finger to her lips. Part of her wasn't sure how ready she was to show him this side of her. Sure, she'd been playing mind games with him already, but she wanted to wait for him to know the truth.

_Please, don't hate me_, she thought._ Not yet, at least._

The guard's footsteps edged closer. He clicked his rifle back into ammunition mode. These Deadmen had shot at one of their betters, and he would make _real _dead men for that.

Minatsuki reached for one earring and pulled, ripping a hole in the cartilage. Blood oozed out of the tiny wound and into her hair. No going back now.

The guard rounded the corner, weapon at the ready. He caught a glimpse of the devil's flowing locks before his skin ignited with a series of lashes. The pain set in, and he fell to his knees, his rifle falling to the floor.

"Yeah, that's what I like to see," Minatsuki sneered. "A man in his rightful fucking place." She threw her hair around his helmet and tossed it to the side with a clang. The look in his eyes was delicious. He showed so much swirling emotion: terror, sorrow, regret, self-contempt. She licked her lips, the ball of her tongue piercing rolling along her teeth. "Oh my God, that face..." She let out a quiet, primal groan. "Oh, yes! You really know how to get a girl off, don't you?"

He said nothing.

"What's the matter, cat got your tongue?" She directed a tentacle into his mouth, gripping his tongue. "Oh, wait, that's me!" she cackled. A stream of blood wrapped around his neck, and another tightened across his waist to restrain his arms. She smiled. "Hard to fight back against a girl who hits at the speed of sound, huh? Don't worry, I'll make sure it's a mistake you'll never make again!" She lashed at him, whipping his back and head with her free strands.

Ganta watched wide-eyed. "Minatsuki?" he whispered. He'd fought the guard earlier, but this wasn't just self-defense. This was borderline torture. "Minatsuki, stop! This isn't you!"

She craned her neck, putting him on the edge of her peripheral. "This isn't me?" she said through clenched teeth before erupting into maniacal laughter. "You don't even know the half of it, shrimp. You really fucking think you know me after one bullshit sob story? What a dashing knight in his shining armor, caring for the damsel in distress." A stream of blood fired at Ganta's neck, pinning him against the wall. "Newsflash, dipshit, people lie! _Everyone_ lies."

The guard screamed in agony as she tightened her grip on him. She freed his tongue and covered his mouth, muffling his cries of terror. His ribs started to crack under the pressure on his chest. A trickle of fluid started to well between her legs, the arousal of her prisoner's pain flooding her body. Her whip squeezed harder, and his trembling only stimulated her more.

"Yes, yes, yes!" she cried. "That's it! That's the good stuff!" Surges of pleasure rushed down her spine. Her blood responded in turn, constricting her prey into an ever-tighter death grip.

Ganta struggled against her hold on his neck. She was slowly restricting his airflow. Would she actually kill him? Or was this just some other sick way for her to get off? He wasn't willing to take that risk. But he couldn't afford to try hitting her with his own attack, unless he wanted to pass out for sure.

Her screams of ecstasy evolved into something more guttural, into a low, rolling moan of bliss. At the same time, the guard's own outcries permeated through his muzzle. Tears welled in her eyes, and a thin stream of saliva crawled down her chin. Her surroundings blurred as she pumped more blood into her hair. She was close... she could feel it. Just one more push would do it.

But where was the fun in that?

The pressure on the guard's chest lessened, and his screams faded into pants and gasps for air. Minatsuki's own pleasure subsided. The torrent of indulgence dissipated. Then, as she felt the last ember start to cool, she turned on the ignition again, and her captive responded in turn.

Ganta realized that he had to try and stop her. "Minatsuki!" he shouted. "Please!"

"Stop?" she asked sarcastically. "But he would've killed us, given the chance. And he'll have to suffer the consequences." She met the guard's gaze. His pupils shrank, leaving almost nothing but his iris behind. In his final moments of pure, unrelenting terror, she decided that he'd suffered enough.

She crushed her victim's ribcage, shards of bone tearing holes in his lungs and heart. The vibrations of his dying shriek rippled through the bloodstream and back into her cartilage, echoing beneath her skin across her body. With that, she lost all control. Her orgasm rocketed through her body, the tremors echoing into her limbs alongside his voice.

For a moment, she only stood there, pupils dilated and senses heightened, arms hanging at her sides. She retracted her blood back into her veins. Both Ganta and the guard fell to the floor, one gasping for air and the other nearing death. Minatsuki breathed a sigh of relief. She looked down; her dress was stained from the ordeal with both the guard's blood and her own secretions, but that was something she'd gotten used to.

"What the hell was that?" Ganta screamed. "You trying to kill me or something?"

She turned her head back to him. He was still clutching his neck, massaging the red marks from where she had him pinned against the wall. This wasn't a familiar sight. When was the last time one of her victims survived? Years, maybe? She replaced her earring. The wound would heal with time, like it always did.

"Sorry you had to see that." She kept her voice hushed. He stayed on the ground, so she met his eye level. "You were just being a little prissy-boy, and I had to do _something_."

That wasn't just doing something, though. She tortured the guy, and for what? Not just self-defense, that much was certain. Her reaction told the full story: it was a sexual thrill. _What kind of sick girl is this?_ he thought. But the words wouldn't come to his mouth that way. "So you killed him?"

"Ganta, people die in this place all the time. If you haven't realized that, then you're even more of a dumbass than I thought." She stood back up. "Now get the fuck back on your feet and let's blow this joint."

He wasn't sure what to think of her. The Minatsuki he'd met in her room was shy, reserved, and had a caring side. Now, she'd shown him a side of her that not many lived to talk about: sex-crazed, sadistic, and merciless. Not to mention that she confessed to lying to him. Could he continue on with her? He sure as hell couldn't trust her, at least not completely.

"Only if you give me an explanation once we're out," he said.

She rolled her eyes. "Sure, whatever. Just... get a move on, okay?"

At least he would have that to look forward to. And the more he thought about it, the more he realized that they had to stick together. Even if she didn't mean to, she'd protected him. That was better than nothing.

He planted his palm on the floor, using it for support to stand up again. His neck was still a little sore, but that would fade. "Right," he said. She detected a hint of doubt, but she didn't expect anything less. He looked at the guard one more time. The corpse was evidence of their escape, but that didn't really matter anymore. "Let's get out of here."

She kicked out her hip, placing her hand on it. "Well, Romeo. You said you had the plan. Lead the way."

Ganta looked down the hallway. This one was darker than the main one, but they might still be able to make use of it. He started walking, and Minatsuki followed close behind him. His hand traced along the outer wall, just so he wouldn't bump into anything unexpected. All sorts of questions kept racing through his head. Who was this girl? How much had she not told him?

"I'm not like that normally." Her voice caught him off-guard. He turned his head to face her. She kept her eyes locked on the ground. "Not that crazy, at least."

"Well, you seem at least a little calmer now," he answered. "What was that back there?"

"It's another side of me. Much darker. But... I guess you already figured that out."

"That's an understatement. You had me pinned against the wall." He averted his eyes back in front. "I was almost afraid you'd kill me, too."

"No, no. I wouldn't do that." She felt the tinges of Hummingbird coming out in her again. "Well... she might have. But I wouldn't!"

_She?_ "You talk about her... like she's different."

Minatsuki nodded, nothing more than a formality in the darkness. "It's part of the Branch. Everyone changes a little bit once they realize they have it."

"I don't know about that." Images of the classroom massacre flashed before his eyes. The sight of the Red Man holding Mimi's severed head would probably haunt him forever. "I can't say I've changed that much." Or, at least, he didn't think he had.

"Don't know you well enough to say. You looked like shit in your fight with Senji." She reached for the sleeve of his uniform. Her loose grip was a simple gesture. She wanted to reassure him that she wasn't the monster he saw earlier. "You always like that?"

"Whaddaya mean?"

"You went down. Everyone thought you were a goner. Would've been lame as hell, to be honest." She thought back to the gladiators' ring, when Crow showed Ganta his webbed blade extensions. He fell from the tree, and the fight was presumed over. But Ganta found the strength to get back up, to keep on fighting. And he beat him. "You haven't figured out who your Woodpecker is yet, have you?"

"My... Woodpecker?" He stopped for a moment and arched his brow at her.

"Everyone loses themself in the ring. Think of it like an alter ego. We just call them by the names they give us." She counted the names on her fingers. "Mockingbird, Crow, Owl, Woodpecker, Game Fowl... Come the fuck on, you know what I mean."

Ganta blinked his eyes at her rapidly. "Uh... yeah, sure."

"Whatever. You'll figure it out one day."******  
**

A thought occurred to him. "Wait, what's your name?"

She held her hand against her chest. "Hummingbird. We were supposed to fight tomorrow."

Part of him wanted to lash out at her for not telling him sooner, but he kept his calm. "Guess I should count myself lucky, then, huh?" From what he'd seen of her Branch so far, he would rather not be on her bad side.

A hollow thud echoed beneath his feet. He signaled her to stop and fell to his knees, examining the floor's surface with his free hand. A few square grooves formed in the cold metal, surrounded by a thin ring. He tried to lift from the outer ring and found that it came up easily. The stench of stagnant water wafted up from the new hole in the floor, coupled with the sound of crashing waves.

Ganta stood and started to remove the upper half of his uniform. He wrapped it around his waist, tying the sleeves together to hold it in place. Miyazaki groaned. "You can't be fucking serious."

"You said you were fine with getting your hands dirty." He sat on the edge of the sewer entrance, feet dangling over the surface. "And here's your chance at freedom."

He jumped into the stream of filth below, rolling to break his fall. She took one look over the edge, then back down to her dress. A disgusted sigh escaped her lips. "Covered in blood and cunt juice and I'm worried about a little shit on my dress." She sat down on the lip just like he did. "Girl, you are one _crazy_ motherfucker."


	2. Chapter 2

**Quick A/N: **I generally update about once a week. I go for quality over quantity. I like to make sure I put out consistently good stuff rather than consistently mediocre stuff, regardless of how long that takes.

* * *

Yō adjusted the plate on his wrist, tightening the straps around his forearm. He'd made it back inside G Block, killed a guard and taken his armor, and now had made it to the locker room for more gear. One of the officers asked if he was new around here while rummaging through "his" belongings. Not new enough, he thought. Thankfully, he was able to pass himself off as merely forgetful.

A pair of guards held idle conversation at the end of the row of lockers.. "You hear about the poor guys they found dead in the outer halls?"

"Yeah. One of them was stark naked! They said he was running around after lunch, had lost his mind or something."

Yō chuckled beneath his breath. _Guess they found the guy I jacked this armor from._

"What about the guy who had his tongue ripped out? Crushed ribcage, punctured lungs, huddled dead in a puddle of blood... like something out of a nightmare."

_Wait... that sounds familiar._ Memories of his father flashed before his eyes. He remembered jumping the man with a boxcutter knife, the only weapon he had on hand. He remembered succumbing to his rage, obscuring his vision. All this time, he'd been sure that he was the murderer. He'd killed the bastard... shattered his ribs, made him suffocate and bleed out. Now here was a similar case, and the only other one there was... _Could it be?_

"Welcome to Wonderland. Probably a Deadman who got loose."

"So then why aren't we hunting them down?"

"You think they didn't already check the cameras? The guy was found in a little nook. Killer found a blind spot and took his chances."

"Hell of a blind spot to not be caught at all. They not look to see if anyone suspicious was running around?"

"There was the new kid and some girl running around, but neither of them is strong enough to take down a guard. It had to have been one of the older guys. Maybe the one who went on a killing spree a few years back?"

"Could be. Scary shit. Think maybe they've gotten a little too big for their own good?"

"I'm not worried. The Undertakers'll come in and clean up if it comes to that."

_Undertakers?_ Yō shut his new locker. _What is he talking about?_

"And until then? We're sitting ducks!"

The one guard headed for the exit. "So make the most of it and keep them under control." He placed his hand on the door, nudging it open. "Until then, not much we can do."

His partner sighed, strapping a blade to his hip. Yō remembered the one on his own suit. _How does a knife help me against people like Ganta? I've seen what they can do. That one guy cut the Necro Macro to shreds!_ He unsheathed the knife, turning it over in his hand as he examined the edge. It looked perfectly normal, like any ordinary knife. "Guess I'll try to stay out of any fights, then," he said to himself. At least he was good at that.

He pulled the helmet over his head and picked up a rifle from the rack. He brought it up to his shoulder, gazing down the sight. A smack on the barrel proved it to be a sturdy enough weapon for his taste. "Not exactly discrete, but it's good enough for the part." He sheathed the rifle on his back and adjusted his gloves one last time. As far as he was concerned, now was as good of a time to roll out as any.

Another guard shoved him in the shoulder as he walked toward the exit. "Hey! Out of the way!"

Yō recoiled, gripping his shoulder tightly. "Watch it!" The guard simply stepped past him, a grunt his only response. Yō caught a glimpse of the plate on his arm. _That number... that voice... it's him! It's gotta be! The bastard who stole my Cast!_

The guard rounded the corner into his section of lockers. Yō followed, barely leaning past the end of his row. The guard was just in sight, and he wouldn't be spotted if he was lucky. His target turned out his pockets, stuffing a few of his belongings into the personal safe: a small gold chain, a digital handheld, a pocket watch... there! He pulled out a short stack of yellow and purple cards.

Yō could practically taste freedom, but not just his own. There was another life waiting for him outside, not to mention his little sister still trapped in this madhouse. "I can just wait for him to leave and break in," he muttered. "Easy as..."

The guard slammed his locker door shut. Yō scrambled behind his row, kneeling to make himself virtually guard walked past him, removing his helmet and heading to the officers' quarters off to the side. Yō breathed a sigh of relief. "Well," he said, "looks like I get the last laugh this time." He rose to his feet with a groan. "Then again, I always do."

He traced back to the locker in question. If he remembered correctly, it was on the left side, second row from the top. It amazed him how, despite all the technology at their disposal, they still kept these ancient combination locks. He wasn't going to complain about making his job easier, though.

He stripped his helmet and pressed his ear against the steel door, listening to the falling tumblers. The lock clicked with each subtle movement, but some numbers responded with a dull thud. He took note of their sounds, which ones were deeper and higher, piecing them together into the proper combination.

"13 to left, 18 to the right, 9 to the left."

The lock clicked open, granting him access to the cabinet's contents. He looked around inside, noticing the same stack of cards from earlier. He grabbed the stack, shoving it in his pocket. Some poor bastard was about to be out of luck. "Eye for an eye," he whispered. "Just call it karma and suck it up."

Yō slid the helmet back onto his head and picked up his rifle. "Might as well play the part. Now... where could Minatsuki be?"

* * *

Minatsuki held the hem of her dress clumped in one hand, her shoes dangling at her side from the other. Her feet trudged through the sewage water, a slimy mush oozing between her toes. A foul odor drifted through the air. "Remind me to never let you lead the way again," she said, retching as the scent wafted into her mouth.

Ganta wasn't nearly as disturbed, or at least not from what she could see. His fingertips constantly traced along the curvature of the wall. "You can still turn around, if you want." He looked back and flashed a smirk. "It'd save your dress."

Sarcasm wasn't something she expected from a kid like him. "You must have a death wish."

"Well... we are kind of trying to escape, aren't we?"

A giggle escaped her throat, a surprisingly girly touch to her otherwise vicious demeanor. "Point taken. Any clue where we are?"

"Not a one."

"Figures I'd trust a man with directions."

He turned and glared at her.

"Sorry, didn't mean to offend you. I trusted a _boy_ with directions." She cackled, laughter turning from feminine to hysterical. His gaze didn't waver. "Oh, please, don't shit yourself. A bleeding heart like you leaving a girl like me down here?"

He sighed. She was right, but he didn't have to like it. "Better than being a liar."

She put her wrist on her hip. "A liar? Me? Never."

Ganta turned his nose up in the air and spun around. Even though he'd only known her for hours, she had changed before his very eyes. The flower girl she had introduced herself as was nothing more than a mask, an act he was certain was meant to lead him into the lion's den. What reason did he have to trust her?

She wasn't sure what to think of his reaction. It was something she expected from a child, not someone like Ganta. "Oh, come the fuck on, you're not still pissed that I killed the bastard, are you?"

He folded his arms across his chest. "Maybe I am," he answered. "What about it?"

"Because without me, you'd be in that chair at that bitch of a doctor's mercy, losing God only knows what. Maybe even dead, if the guards didn't want to turn you over." She let her dress fall, putting her now free hand on his shoulder. It was a simple gesture, nothing more than her wanting to give him a little reassurance. If they were going to get out alive, they had to trust each other. "Look, I know what you saw was a little fucked up, but... can we get over it?"

Ganta turned back around, holding his arms out at his sides. "But it's not just what happened, it's that you lied to me. What's stopping you from doing it again?"

She folded her arms across her chest, lips slanted in a frown. "You really think I'd still be here if I wanted to lie to you?"

He hung his head. "No, well... maybe... I... I don't know."

"Exactly. So suck it up and keep moving." She started walking, back straight and shoulders stiff. "It's the only way you survive in a place like this." Her footsteps echoed down the cylindrical hallway. Water splashed up onto the hem of her dress with each stride. At this point, she had stopped caring about her appearance. She just wanted to get out.

Ganta trudged behind her slowly. "Hey, Minatsuki."

She stopped, turning her head slightly to the side. "Yeah?"

He frowned, his eyebrows slanted downward. "Did you mean to trick me?" he asked.

She sighed heavily. He took that as a yes.

"Were you gonna turn on me, too, in the fight tomorrow?" His voice turned stern, adamant even. He was sick of being kept in the dark. "Was it just a sick game to you?"

She paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts. She really didn't want to mess up at this point. "Why are we talking about this now? Can we just focus on getting out of here?" As he tried to intensify his words, she softened, edging closer to the voice she used when they had met.

"Because it's important to me." He clenched his fist, out of her sight. "And I want answers."

_Fine_, she thought. _He wants to be serious? I can play that game, too._ "No, you really don't."

"And why the hell wouldn't I?"

She spun around, arms spread at her sides. Her hair flared wildly, eyes wide open and filled with rage. "Don't you fucking get it?" Her voice bellowed down the sewer shaft. "Because the truth is ugly! It's filthy and disgusting and... and..."

"And what?" He grit his teeth together. "What's the damn point of all this? Why even act the way you did when we met?"

Her eyes softened, and she looked off to the side. She held her arm across her waist, grabbing her elbow. Why was he doing this? Some kind of shining-knight complex? It sickened her. Yet something in her core almost appreciated it. What was this feeling? She hadn't felt anything like this since... not since she last saw her brother.

Ganta didn't let up his assault, oblivious to her body language. "What else was a lie?" he berated. "Your dad's abuse? Did you kill him just like you did that guard, for the fun of it?"

A string snapped in her head. "Shut up! Shut your fucking mouth! You don't _know me_!" A trickle of blood still oozed out of her earlobe. She pulled it free, lengthening her hair into the same set of tentacles. Her hair extended, laced with lines of crimson. She bared her teeth in a bloodthirsty smile. "You want to pretend like you know shit about me, then why wait for tomorrow? We can just fight here. I could kill you now and get along just fine by myself."

Ganta bit the scab off his thumb, summoning a swirling orb of crimson into his palm. "I think I know enough."

She growled, throwing a single whip around each of his wrists. She drew the tendrils taut, forcing his arms forward and threatening to tear them out of his shoulders. "You're wrong," she said flatly. "You don't know _anything_. Now... down, pig." She threw another strand, sweeping out his feet. He fell to his knees face first, taking in a mouthful of sewer water. The gauze's adhesive dissolved in the solution and began to peel off the wounds on his face.

Minatsuki approached him, her mind a torrent of thoughts.

_Why are we killing him?_

_Because he's full of bullshit, just like all of them. Just like your mom. Just like your dad. They're all the same._

_But he didn't do anything wrong! He just wanted to know. He just wanted to help..._

_And he called you a fucking liar for it!_

She gripped a handful of her foe's matted hair, pulling his head up and squatting to his eye level. The hem of her dress fell across the water's surface. Her fingertips traced along his battered cheeks. His skin responded to the warmth of her touch, peppering itself with goosebumps. He struggled to open his eyes, weakened and defeated. "Such a poor little boy," she muttered. "You're not in Kansas anymore. Or even Oz. Welcome to the wastelands. To Hell itself."

_No, you can't do this!_

_Watch me._

_I won't let you._

_So do something about it. Or are you forgetting about our deal?_

"Such a shame," she continued. "Talented, caring... cute, even. Too bad I can't let Minatsuki have you." A glint flickered in Ganta's eyes, much to her amusement. "There it is! That look! The little spark of hope that's so fun to snuff out. Pity that I won't get to see it from you again." She walked her fingers up his chest. "Just promise me you'll be a fun little plaything, dear?"

He didn't answer. Fear dominated his eyes. The same terror from that day in Nagano crept through his veins. Helpless before a murderer. He was so close... and now this hellhole would be his grave. But there was a tinge of... something in her eyes. Doubt? Regret? Something told him that the Minatsuki he met was somewhere beneath the surface. "Minatsuki...," he said weakly. "Please... don't."

She sneered at him. "Oh, now you see where you went wrong. Just like a man to think with the head on his dick and not on his shoulders." She spat on his face. "Too bad. Minatsuki can't save you. It's just you and me, and I'm going to rip you the fuck apart."

She wrapped a strand of hair around his neck. He closed his eyes, resigned to his fate. This was how it would end. It just didn't feel right, though. He was just a kid, with so much potential and life to live.

"Oh, one more thing." His eyes snapped open at her voice. She lifted his chin, holding it steady between her index finger and thumb. "A parting gift from Little Miss Softie." She pressed her lips to his, forcing her tongue into his mouth. She writhed around inside him, the ball of her piercing rolling across his taste buds and between his teeth. He felt the fear start to melt away, almost as if he were relaxing.

Then she pulled back, and he saw the contraction of her irises, the bloodshot in her eyes. And the fear returned with it. "There," she whispered. "Now you can die properly."

* * *

Nothing disgusted some of the guards of G Block more than the Deadmen. These people were different, they were special. They had a gift that none of them could fathom, and it was the guards' duty to keep them under control, to look for anything suspicious and make sure that they were "properly" taken care of. The tools they'd been given were more than sufficient to get the job done: weapons infused with something the higher ups called Worm Eater. They didn't know how it worked, of course. That wasn't their place. All that mattered was that it neutralized a Deadman's blood on contact.

Every day, he found himself thankful that he'd been given such a glorious opportunity: to snuff out sub-human life with no consequences. One single step out of line and their heads came clean off. He'd always been called a psychopath in school for being so fascinated with death. Here, it was just the way things worked. He almost considered it a dream job.

That didn't excuse the fact that he was on postman duty. Delivering mail to these scumbags was the least of his concerns. All he wanted to do was kill each and every one of them, to hear their dying screams of terror as he snuffed out their pathetic existence. But he enjoyed his job a little too much to get fired yet.

He pushed the aluminum cart around the core hallway, its shelves still stacked high with portions of mail. Even though they were prisoners, it wasn't hard to get subscriptions to magazines or letters from their outside lives. As far as the common people knew, these were just some crooks who were screwed by the system. Not the batch in G Block, though. They were a little more special than that.

The guard came upon one of the cells, marked with its identification number: 5580. He rolled his cart to a stop just outside the cell door and knocked three times. "Mail cart!" he announced, his face held close to the slab of metal.

No sound came from beyond the door. Odd, they usually piped up when they weren't expecting anything. He tried again, just to be sure. "You expecting anything, now's your chance!"

Still no answer. _Asleep, I guess. Still weird that he wouldn't wake up._ The guard reassumed control of his cart and continued along the sequence of rooms. Each cell produced a single Deadman, each of whom collected whatever waited for them, if anything at all. A builder magazine for the muscle man, cooking magazines for some of the ladies... all sorts gathered in the Wonderland.

The next door was labeled 5639. The guard knocked three times, said his line... but no response. He tried once more, but still nothing.

_What are the odds?_ he thought. The chances that two rooms would be completely empty around this time of day were staggering enough. If he was right, this pairing was especially interesting. He produced a small handheld from his pocket and scanned through the records database for G Block. Finally, he came to the residents of these cells: Igarashi "Woodpecker" and Takami "Hummingbird." Curiously, they were the two Deadmen slated for tomorrow's Carnival Corpse.

_I wonder..._

He turned back to 5580's room and hurriedly knocked on the door. The prisoners almost always kept their doors locked, and he found this one no different. Like before, even after some time had passed, the room sounded empty. He pulled his handheld up to his mouth. "Bird's Nest," he said, "this is officer 2871. Permission to investigate rooms 5580 and 5639."

A few moments later, a static voice returned the call. "You're on mail duty, officer. On what grounds?"

"Sir, I received no answer from either room when prompted. After visiting 5639, I returned to 5580. Still nothing, sir."

"Both asleep? Taking a shower?"

"This early in the afternoon, sir?"

"Unlikely, but I need more than just circumstantial evidence to give you a temporary warrant, officer."

Privacy be damned. Why were they respecting the rights of freaks? Despite all his harbored animosity toward them, 2871 was adept at keeping his cool around superiors. "Sir, I was trained to never assume anything, to always be suspicious. None of these..." He swallowed the lump in his throat. "...people can be trusted."

The line went dead. Seconds passed, enough to make him think that the operator was giving up on him. He sighed and returned to his cart. Something ate away at him inside. These two were both possibly missing, and he was being denied the opportunity to rat them out. There were cameras, but he'd seen how those personnel acted on the job.

His fingers wrapped around the handlebar when the small device buzzed back to life. "Approved, officer. You are free to enter rooms 5580 and 5639."

A glint ignited in his heart. Nothing thrilled him more than catching a sub-human performing out-of-line, because death often followed soon after.

He checked 5580 first, drawing a blade from his hip as the door slid to the side. Once open, he assumed his battle stance, knife turned over in his hand and crossing his chest. The lights were still on, only further raising his suspicions. The sheets were thrown over the bed in a clumped mess. He tossed them around, affirming that no one was in the huddle of cloth. "Just like a kid," he said with a snort, "to not show a little self-discipline and make his bed in the morning."

He headed for the accompanying bathroom next. The door was already open, and the lights dimmed. "Where on earth could this fucker be?"

An idea sprung into his head, but he tried to dismiss it, remembering the training he was so fervent about earlier. "Never assume anything." Yet it gnawed at him. The possibility was there. What if he were wrong? He could be labeled an accomplice. Put to death, maybe. God help him if he'd lose his job and die in the same day.

He rushed to 5639's room, keeping his weapon drawn. Another break of protocol, but he couldn't care less with his life on the line. Pressing his ear against the sliding door, he knocked on hers as furiously as 5580's. "Mail cart!" he announced. It wasn't a total lie, given that the cart was still next to her door. "Last chance!"

As he expected, no one answered. He took that as his invitation to exercise his warrant.

When the door opened, his senses were assaulted with an array of floral aromas. The walls had been repainted a light purple, and her cell was undeniably much cleaner than 5580's, covered in dozens of flowers and decor. His eyes wandered around the room, expecting to be assaulted by its resident at any moment.

But there was no sign of her. Not here, not in her bathroom, nothing.

He reached for his handheld. "Bird's Nest, this is officer 2871. We... might have a problem."

* * *

There was... a roaring sound. Ganta remembered that sound. He had heard it when his school was attacked. It seemed like he'd lived an entire lifetime since that day. He had almost died a few times, discovered his blood power, found others like him, and even formed something close to a friendly bond with a few of them. But that was over now. He would die at the hands of a girl he'd thought his friend, or at least his ally.

The roar intensified. She raised a tendril above her head, and he glued his eyes shut. He would rather not see it coming if he could help it. _Maybe it'll hurt less that way,_ he thought. For some reason, he was beginning to accept it.

It was rushing now. Like flowing water.

He waited there, on his knees, for what felt like an eternity. Eventually, his curiosity got the better of him, and he opened his eyes.

Minatsuki stared past him, her eyes wide with terror. Why would she be the frightened one right now? She was in control, and she was about to kill him. He looked over his shoulder.

A wall of water rocketed toward them. Minatsuki's focus faltered, and her blood retracted back into her ears. His wrists free, Ganta stood up, trying to figure out what they could do. She, on the other hand, was frozen solid. Paralyzed with terror, realizing that her own life could be coming to a very abrupt end.

An idea popped into his head. He turned, gripping her shoulders and shaking her violently. "Minatsuki!" he shouted. "We can follow the water! It'll take us to the way out!"

She didn't respond.

"Minatsuki, listen to me!" He shook her harder, trying to snap her out of whatever trance she was locked in. He looked back over his shoulder. The raging water definitely wasn't slowing down, and they had to act quickly. From the looks of things, she wasn't coming to anytime soon.

He acted on instinct, wrapping his arms around her frame and locking his hands together on the small of her back. She didn't react. He grit his teeth together and waited for the inevitable, swallowing a mouthful of air.

Then the water hit.

It swept them away, pulling them into the brine of water and waste. He struggled to hold onto his passenger, keeping his hand clenched tightly around his wrist. Once he was sure they were fully submerged and moving along with the flow, he started kicking his feet. His head broke the surface, and he lifted her up for air, as well, throwing himself beneath her arm so he could tread.

The waves carried them along the sewers. She remained motionless, resting against his shoulder with eyes closed. _Is she really out?_ he asked himself. _I swear, girls._ Still, he couldn't help but notice the softness of her features. Even with how crazy she'd proven she could be, she had her feminine side. Why couldn't she just be the flower girl he met earlier today?

Ganta noticed a patch of light up ahead, shimmering off the water's surface. The light intensified, turning from a shallow, iridescent glow into a shining sun. Sure enough, a disposal exit appeared up ahead, covered in a thin grating. He shifted her to his other side and readied a bullet in his right palm. With one well-placed shot, he busted a small hole in the grating, probably big enough for each of them to fit through.

He came up to the grating, holding on to the steel rods. Below, the sewage crashed into the lake that had filled the Tokyo sinkhole over the past ten years. It wasn't a long drop, perhaps a good ten or twelve feet. Certainly not a long drop, but it would hurt a bit at first. A small price to pay for freedom.

He took a deep breath and held onto Minatsuki tightly. "Here goes nothing," he whispered. His fingers slipped from the rails, and he sank beneath the waves as they carried him away. Against his better judgment, he looked down. His stomach jumped, heart caught in his throat mid-descent. The rushing sensation of falling water and passing air ran across his skin. Time slowed, seconds passing like minutes.

Then... impact.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Life happened. Also, apologies about the update and takedown. I noticed a few errors that slipped over my editing.

* * *

Tamaki's shoes clicked along the floor with each footstep. He maintained his professional demeanor: hands held behind his back, wearing a gray, two-piece suit, accented by the thin-rimmed glasses adorning his face and combed-back hair. Keeping himself calm was no easy task. The guards of G Block had already briefed him on the situation; two Deadmen were missing, nowhere to be found in the prison. If anything troubled him, it was the idea of two little birdies escaping their cage.

From the quick briefing call to his office, he was told that the search team was frantically trying to figure out where they had gone. What should have been a menial task was proving difficult. The collars should be able to track them, but that capability had never been tested outside prison walls. Unlikely as it seemed, he was faced with the possibility that they were already gone. He clenched his teeth at the thought. _No one_, he said to himself, _escapes Deadman Wonderland. Not on my watch._

He found himself in front of a great steel door. A small pad sat on the adjacent wall, green lights tracing the outline of a human hand. Tamaki pressed his hand on the pad, and the lights responded in turn. A scan of his prints was compared against a full database of approved staff. The system found a match and opened the door for him.

The secret room bustled with technology and panic. Guards, officers, and general technicians ran around the room from station to station, trying to pinpoint where their fugitives were headed. Tamaki was always impressed by the devotion put into their work. Fear of death proved to be a powerful motive.

Tamaki kept his hands on the small of his back, eyes narrow and face stern. His aura exuded serenity, a mask for the storm raging beneath his skin. The room seemed to go silent when he entered the room, footsteps echoing through the chamber. They stopped and stared. "Well?" he shouted, more for volume than out of spite. "Don't just stand there. Get back to work!" They did as they were told, resuming their duties.

A guard approached him. "Sir!" he said with a salute. "I assume that you've been briefed?"

Tamaki glared at him through squinted eyelids. "Would I be here if I hadn't?" He walked past the muttering minion. "We have a pair of runaways, yes?"

The guard accompanied him to a central table. "That's correct, sir." He pressed a button on the underside of the table, bringing up a translucent holographic screen from a projector on its surface. The screen was colored with visuals and a map of the prison itself, which zoomed in on G Block. "At around 1130 hours, we lost tracking on their collars." He pointed at a pair of small red dots that vanished after a few seconds. "No trace of their existence. Could've been something interfering with the GPS signal, but they somehow eluded all of the cameras and guards." A small green appeared near where the red ones died out. "Well, except one."

"They bested one of the guards on patrol?" Tamaki pondered, stroking his chin. "Even through the Worm Eater?"

"They're not Undertakers, sir. They have the weapons, but not the training." The guard swiped away a few visuals and brought up profiles of the escaped Deadmen. "It also doesn't help that he fought against Woodpecker and Hummingbird. Weapons don't help against her if she gets the first move."

Tamaki sighed. "Ignoring that minor detail, why did you take so long to tell me about this?"

"W-well..." the guard stammered.

Light flickered off of the promoter's glasses. His eyes opened in a slim gaze. "Well what?"

"We... we didn't notice until at least half an hour after their tracking fell off. It took a guard on mail duty checking their rooms to find them missing. That was after we found the dead guard."

Tamaki fell into a chair at the table, massaging his temples with shaking hands. His elbows held the brunt of his weight against the table. "And why," he hissed, removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose, "didn't you find out immediately? Why did it take a damn newspaper boy to see that they were gone?" He raised his voice with each word, intensifying the emotion in the room. Guards started dropping their tasks again and prepared themselves for the inevitable outburst.

"Sir," the guard said, "that falls on the watchman..."

Tamaki beat his fist into the table. "Then who was the fucking watchman?!" His voice boomed. The people stood still. Anger was not an emotion he displayed often. He clenched his teeth together. "Bring him to me," he growled. "I have words for him."

The guard across the table from him looked back at one of the technicians, who responded with a shrug. "Um...," he mumbled back at his superior. "Right away, sir." He rushed through the entrance/exit door, keeping up a sprinter's pace.

Tamaki swore he could feel a vein burst underneath his skin. His blood boiled just below the surface. He pulled a handkerchief out of his breast pocket and pressed it lightly against his forehead. Part of him wondered why he trusted such incompetent fools to do the grub work. _Right, _he answered, _because there aren't enough people in the world to trust._

A nearby technician swallowed the lump in his throat while Tamaki polished his glasses. Did he dare approach that man right now? He thought about all the things that could go wrong, all the words he could say that would cost him his head. Even so, he had questions that needed to be answered. He approached the man. "Er... sir?" he asked.

Tamaki turned his head up and stopped his polishing. His face had softened, but still carried a look of bottled fury. "What?" he snapped.

"It's just... why are so worried about finding them? Won't the collars kill them in a few days?"

Tamaki sighed. The voice sounded strangely familiar to him, like... a thief gone missing. "It's a matter of principle, my dear boy." He slid the glasses back onto his nose. "No one escapes Deadman Wonderland, understood?"

Yō nodded under his helmet. "Yes, sir. Understood, sir."

Tamaki rose from his chair, adjusted his suit jacket, and checked his watch. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to speak with an associate." He turned toward the exit, strolling casually. If not for the buzzing of computers, his newly donned aura would suggest that nothing was out of the ordinary.

"But... what about the watchman you wanted to see?" Yō asked.

Light flickered off the rim of Tamaki's glasses. He sneered at the thought of a poor lamb sent to the slaughter. "Send him to my office. I'll be waiting for him." The door opened in front of him, and he took the exit into the darkened corridor.

Yō returned to his "assigned" station and resumed his work. He didn't know much about the way the collars worked, but this was the easiest way to find his sister. _Minatsuki_, he thought. _I'll find you. And we'll make this whole thing right._

* * *

Ganta's head broke the surface, and he consumed a mouthful of air. He could feel Minatsuki slipping in his grip as the tide tugged on their bodies. However, he found it relatively easy to stay afloat in the salty water. As she slipped out of his hands, she rose to the surface, resting on her back. Even through the jump, she remained unconscious.

He treaded over to her body. Her chest didn't appear to be moving. _Shit, _he thought, _she's not gone, is she?_ He checked for a pulse at the base of her neck. A slow beat rippled beneath her skin, but it was steady enough that he didn't think she was in any immediate danger. Still, he needed to get her to shore and fast.

He threw his arm over her stomach, forcing her down and over his shoulder again, then onto his back. Her head rested against his back, arms draped over his shoulders. She was about his size but much lighter, which made it easier for him to keep his head above water. Despite this, he still had to expend more effort than he wanted to with his current blood supply.

Each paddle of his legs and stroke of his arms brought with it burning exhaustion in his muscles. The gauze covering his face peeled away, salt seeping into his wounds. He clenched his teeth, holding screams behind his lips. As close as they were now, they couldn't afford being caught by his inability to bear a little pain. _I need... to be strong. _He thought back to Kozuji and Senji, when they called him a weakling. _Now more than ever. We can't fail. Not now._

The journey to shore proved arduous. He wasn't even sure if there _was_ a shore. Tokyo was nothing more than a sinkhole now, a lake surrounded by concrete and housing the biggest violation of human rights since Unit 731. But his resolve did not waver. He had a goal in mind, two lives on the line, and more than a handful of dreams to fulfill.

He looked to the great steel wall surrounding the lakebed. _How the hell am I supposed to get two people over this thing?_ he thought. Then again, nothing they had done today really made sense. This wasn't the most well-planned escape. They were running on whimsy, some melting pot of 'maybe we can do this' and 'why the hell not?' It amused him, almost, to think that they had come this far.

Conveniently, Ganta spotted a small ladder scaling the wall. It was definitely not wide enough for one person, and might not even hold the weight of two people at once. But it was something, a chance. And that's all that he needed right now.

He picked up his pace, stroking rapidly to get to shore. It took every ounce of strength he had to keep both himself and the girl unconscious on his back afloat. Every now and then, he would sink his head below to ease the pressure, letting the air and salt keep his back just above the surface. Then, he would resurface like a whale for gasps of air. He wasn't sure which method was physically harder, but it was more effective than collapsing from exhaustion and drowning. He had to stop and readjust Minatsuki's grasp on his neck once or twice; the increase in speed caused her weight to shift more often.

The steel wall edged closer, enough that he could see it through the murky water of the lake. Salt would sting his eyes with each plunge of his head, but he couldn't stop staring at the final stretch. All of the day's efforts were about to pay off.

He stretched out his hand, reaching for the ladder. The cold metal slipped from the moisture on his fingers. _Don't give up now_, he thought, reassuring his grip on one of the steps above him. _You're there. You made it._ Minatsuki's weight on his back made the climb harder, and she only slid backward as he tried to climb the ladder. _How am I supposed to get her up there when she's off in cuckooland?_ He kept her left arm locked in place with his hand, other reaching up to an overhead bar.

A thought crossed his mind. He summoned what strength he could, lifting himself up. The gap between steps in the ladder was just bigger than his head. He pressed his chin into one of the rungs. It wasn't a great hold, but it would be enough for him to throw his arm up to the next step. He let go and reached up again, grabbing the step quickly. He slipped for a moment, but tightened his grip and stabilized. He pulled himself up again and repeated the same process.

Before he knew it, he had scaled most of the ladder. A cough echoed in his ear. Droplets sprayed on his neck with successive heaves. _Is she awake?_ he asked himself.

She opened her eyes slowly, lids caught halfway over her irises. A groan escaped her throat. "Ganta?" she muttered. Her vision was still dark, but she could make out shapes well enough. Her dress, soaked from the lake, clung to her skin uncomfortably.

"Hang tight," Ganta answered. "We're almost there."

Her eyes fell shut again to fatigue. Her head was a clouded mess, racing to try and figure out what was going on. _Where are we?_ she thought. _What happened back there?_

Ganta threw his arm over the last rung. He nudged his shoulder under her arm, trying to get her attention. "Hey," he whispered. "Do me a favor?"

She responded slowly. "What's up?"

"Hold onto the ladder." He grabbed her wrist, guiding her hand to the metal rods. She wrapped her fingers around it. She wasn't even sure if she could hold up her own weight right now, but she'd give it a shot. Ganta's voice came to her again. "I need you to hold on for just a few seconds. I'll pull you up."

She nodded with weary eyes. Why did she trust him so suddenly? _He's just some crummy boy_, Hummingbird's voice echoed in her head._ He was supposed to be a fun plaything. You're actually falling for his bullshit?_

_He kept us alive_, she answered. _It's the least we can do for right now._

_Tch. If you want to be a softie toward him again, fine. Just don't come crying to me when he breaks your little heart._

Minatsuki held onto the ladder tightly as Ganta slid out from under her. He climbed the rest of the ladder, falling onto his knees to catch his breath. Minatsuki wasn't faring as well: she was struggling to keep her grip, as her muscles had not yet recovered from their weakened state. "Don't you dare forget about me!" she shouted up the ladder. Part of her wanted him to forget. She'd wronged him in enough ways already, between the lying and almost trying to kill him.

Ganta leaned over the edge. Despite his exhaustion, he managed to smile. "Not a chance," he said, extending a hand.

She felt her face heat up. Such a simple gesture, but it meant much more to her. Even through everything she'd done to him earlier, he still wanted to help? She grabbed his hand. "Why... are you doing this?"

"Because we have to stick together, remember?" He pulled her up over the steel wall, and they both fell to the concrete.

She wrung out one of the ends of her dress. "So fucking what? You're going to forgive me so easily after I almost killed you back there?" She gripped the other end, wringing it dry like the first. "That doesn't make sense."

He chuckled. He felt like he needed to do something to lighten the mood. "Because that's not you."

She looked up, mouth slightly agape. She had told him about how the Branch affects people, about her... other side. But for him to claim that it wasn't her? _Bullshit. Bullshit bullshit bullshit. _"How can you say that?"

He shrugged. "Just call it a hunch."

She felt her blood heat up beneath her cheeks. _No,_ she heard Hummingbird mutter. _Don't fall for it. Just remember that he's like that old man. Like Yō-y__ō_. Like everyone who ever tried to victimize you. But even through her words, she couldn't help but feel appreciative. She couldn't remember the last time someone treated her that way.

_But we owe him now, don't we?_

_Nonsense. You saved him earlier. Consider yourselves even._

Ganta stood up. The sun cascaded down on their soaked bodies, a chilled breeze flowing through his hair. He stretched out his arms, basking in the warm sensations and inhaling a full breath of fresh air. He never thought he'd miss this. Being stuck in Deadman Wonderland made him miss a lot of the simple pleasures of life. He sighed in contentment. "I'd almost forgotten," he thought out loud, "what a beautiful day looked like."

He'd spent a week there; she'd been locked away for years. How could he talk? Minatsuki's eyes glistened in the sun. He was still so naive, carefree. Still just a child, at the end of the day. But there was something that she admired about his innocence. "Yeah," she muttered. "I can imagine." She rose to her feet, a half-faked smile on her face. She nudged him in the back. "Come on, let's see the sights."

* * *

A dissonant, distorted chord rang through the air, accented by a percussive, harmonic melody. Tamaki never did understand the guitarist's taste in music: loud, abrasive, necrotic. But he was good at what he did, and that was often all that mattered. In turn, Tamaki's office was brighter than his studio. He practically had to squint when he walked in. "So," the man said in a weary, tattered voice. "You have a couple freaks on the loose?"

"That's right," Tamaki affirmed. He sat calmly in his chair, legs crossed and hands in his lap. He brought his fingers up to his face, the tips of his thumbs resting on his chin. "I need you to round them up for me."

He smirked, running a hand through his long red hair. "What kinda coyotes chewed their own legs off that you need _me_ to do the dirty work?" He strummed another chord. "I'm an Undertaker, the Ubermonk, not some babysitter."

Tamaki leaned back in his chair, resting his hands in his lap again. "There's a reason I require a man with your... talents, Genkaku."

Genkaku turned his attention to the knobs on the head of his guitar. That last chord sounded off, and he needed to correct it. "Yeah, and what's that? We talking Mockingbird on the run or somethin'?"

"Not quite that level, but close. The newcomer, Woodpecker, and his new friend Hummingbird." Tamaki adjusted his glasses, giving him time to focus. The very sound of their names sickened him right now. "We suspect they took down an armed guard on their way out."

Genkaku didn't respond, fixated on the offending off-key string. He plucked it a few times to make sure it was in tune with the others.

"He had a rifle infused with Worm Eater."

Genkaku twisted the knob hard. The string snapped instantly, lashing his knuckle. A thin stream of blood flowed down his hand; he did not wince. "The fuck are you talkin' about?" The Worm Eater was supposed to make them unstoppable, the anti-Gods to the Deadmen. Sure, the guard probably lacked proper training, but he still should have been able to subdue them.

"They killed a guard armed with Worm Eater," Tamaki replied. He rose from his chair, hands behind his back. "We lost tracking on their collars some time ago. We don't know where they are or where they're going. All we have..." He nudged his glasses back into place. "All we have are police reports and word of mouth." He walked over to Genkaku slowly and adjusted the alignment of the man's robe. "I won't tolerate failure again. So I'm sending the best."

Genkaku shoved his boss away and walked toward the back of the office. He reached into his pocket, pulling a cigarette to his lips. He lit the tip, puffing a few samplings of nicotine. The temporary rush was one of only two things that made him feel alive anymore. It was also the only way he could think. _Somethin' about this doesn't seem right, _he said to himself. He paced around the back corner, rubbing his chin. "What do you want me to do that the poison can't?"

Tamaki sighed. He dared not tell anyone but his most trusted Undertaker about this. He strolled to the great window overlooking his theme park of a prison. "I told you already, the collars aren't tracking them." The thought was nauseating. "They've probably malfunctioned."

Genkaku stopped his pacing and stifled a laugh to a chuckle. "You're shittin' me, right? Both of them at once? Damn, this is too convenient."

Tamaki spun around quickly. "You think I want them out on the streets, spreading the truth about our little operation here?" If all those secrets surfaced... they'd be shut down for good, and with nothing to show for it. All that research gone to waste... "Besides, there are little birdies talking of a plan to escape. We must make an example of these two."

"So get a damn bounty hunter," Genkaku ordered. "You hired me to watch Deadmen, not hunt them."

"What's the difference?" Tamaki fidgeted with a pen laying on his desk, clicking it back and forth. It was a nervous twitch he had picked up recently, an irrational comfort. He certainly needed it right now. "I'm asking you to do your job where others failed."

A phone rang on Tamaki's desk. He pressed a small button, bringing up a translucent screen. A guard stood on the other end. "Sir, apologies for the interruption..."

_That voice..._, Tamaki pondered. _Why are you so familiar?_

"...here to see you."

_Wait. What did he say? _"I'm sorry, can you say that again? I didn't quite catch that."

"I have the watchman who was on camera duty when the fugitives escaped. I brought him here to see you." The pleading screams of the guard could be heard, muffled through his helm and by the distance from the microphone.

"Right," Tamaki muttered. "Bring him in." He closed the screen.

"The hell is that about?" Genkaku asked.

"A friend. The watchman who didn't do his job." He snickered. "Would you... care to show him how we handle laziness around here?"

Genkaku flashed a smile. He never turned down a chance at saving a poor soul.

The bookcase in Tamaki's office slid open, revealing the steel hallway leading from the Director's chambers to this secret chamber. The guard from before was carrying his companion in by the ropes binding his wrists. "No! Please!" the prisoner cried. "Have mercy! I didn't know! I couldn't have known!"

Tamaki walked over, a coy smile etched on his face. He delicately removed the guard's helmet. The man beneath was nothing more than a blubbering shell now. Tears streamed down his face, the realization of death slowly dawning on him. "So..." Tamaki began, squatting down to look his traitor in the eye. "You were on duty when my little pets escaped, is that correct?"

The man didn't respond. He sniveled a few tears back, but made no other sound.

"I'll take that as a yes," Tamaki said. Genkaku walked over to the man, guitar drawn. "Tell me," Tamaki continued, "have you met our dear friend Genkaku? He's our resident spiritual guide, of sorts. You might even call him a monk."

Genkaku sneered. "The Ubermonk." He flipped a switch on the back of his guitar's neck. The components swiveled and turned, shifting into new positions. The headstock split open, revealing a gun barrel built into the neck. The body made room for a trigger and grip. Genkaku pulled a small purple bead from his pocket - matching the ones on his neck - and clicked it into the chamber.

"But you can call him," Tamaki went on, "your executioner."

The man burst into wails. "No! Please, I've never done anything wrong before! Give me another chance and I won't let you down again! Just... please, let me live!"

Tamaki gripped the man's chin and brought his face up. He peered into the man's bloodshot eyes. The man peered back; he saw nothing resembling a soul. "Sorry," Tamaki said. "But that's not how things work around here." He released the man's face and rose to his full stature. "You must be made an example of how we tolerate failure. Goodbye, and thank you for your service."

Genkaku pulled the trigger, silencing the man's cries for a case. A rush of pleasure raced down his spine, much stronger than anything the nicotine could provide. Another soul saved... but it wasn't enough. He needed more. And Tamaki had already given him the targets.

"Now, Genkaku." Tamaki ran his fingers along the man's slender shoulders. "Tell me that you have a taste for more. You wouldn't turn down a chance to satiate your lust for death, would you?"

Genkaku snickered. "You want them back dead, then?"

"No. I prefer them alive, if possible." Tamaki returned to the view. "Although we can scavenge whatever's left of them if an... accident were to happen."

Yō's eyes widened beneath his mask. _Is he... is he going after them? Dammit! _He gave a sharp salute."Am I dismissed sir?"

"Hm?" Tamaki looked up at the other guard still here. "Oh, of course! Please, leave us."

Yō walked back into the hallway. The bookcase door slid shut behind him. He pulled off his helmet and sank to the floor. What could he do now? He had to find a way to get to Minatsuki, to protect her from this madman... if that was even possible. But how could he get to her if he was stuck in here?

He thought back to his operation earlier that day. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the stack of Cast Point cards. If he was lucky, they'd still have his entire stash on them. Whether it could buy off his sentence, he wasn't sure. Still, it was worth a shot.

He rose from the ground and sprinted down the hallway. He had to find a vendor.

* * *

_It's only a matter of time, you know._

_A matter of time until what?_

_Until you lose your temper again. Or he says something that just jabs at you the wrong way. And then I'll come out again. And trust me, I won't fail this time._

_No. You're wrong about him. He's different, I can tell!_

_Please. You're following your heart into the lion's den. I'm here to save you, remember? That's why you created me, all those year's ago..._

_And I don't need you anymore! I can look out for myself._

_Is that so? I'd love to see you try. Maybe you can. But I doubt it. Danger will come knocking at your doorstep again. One wrong step into a back alley, one misspoken word to the wrong man, and you'll be stuck with no way out. And then... I shall return._

_Try me. I'll show you. I'll show everyone._

_Then I shall sit back and watch, ready to take over when necessary. This is my body, too, don't forget that. Because the second you do, you'll be vulnerable. And that's when you'll find me the most virulent._


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Let's slow down a bit, yeah?

* * *

Despite all of the restoration efforts of the past ten years, the outskirts of Tokyo remained a dilapidated mess of scrap metal huts, assorted debris, and deranged citizens clothed in tattered rags. Most of them sat with whatever belongings they had left. One older man covered his face with a crumpled leather hat. Another stroked the fur of his faithful dog lying motionless at his side. Some had nothing to soothe their troubled minds. The extremely unfortunate found solace in their drugs. In this hellhole, they took comfort in any form: powder, liquid, crystal, vapor... a real melting pot of the world's vilest pleasures.

The police force had sunk into complacency. Why bother enforcing law in a state of pure anarchy? Let the people fend for themselves, let nature do its job and pick only the strongest to survive. One officer suggested that the people should destroy themselves and start over. The government clearly had no sense of responsibility left for the survivors, and the prison wasn't going to fix up the surrounding area out of kindness. All that mattered was a pretty route to the park; the rest could rot. Of course, it would take much more to stop the rampant crime in recent years. It had died down, but criminal activity was a slippery slope. Once you started, there was no way out.

Minatsuki held tight onto Ganta's arm. Her fingernails dug into his skin, but he didn't mind much. Their clothes were still damp from the swim; they took some time to wring out most of the moisture and left the sun to do the rest. Hair, on the other hand, was a different story. Ganta was able to simply shake his dry. Minatsuki was not as lucky. He took the opportunity to joke with her about it, earning him her disdain and a punch in the back. Still, she clung to him. Part of her was disturbed by the surroundings, the sullen faces of drug addicts dampening her spirits. "You know," she whispered. Ganta turned his head slightly. "This isn't what I had in mind when I said 'Let's see the sights.'"

Ganta was inclined to agree with her. He wanted to be excited about getting out of prison, but this only ruined the moment. Was this the harsh reality that they had to come to expect? He wondered about how they would get by on their own. A couple of escaped convicts would probably find it difficult to re-integrate into society. His name and face had been plastered all over Japan. Was there _anywhere_ he could go? Not to mention whatever her situation was. "Yeah," he muttered. "I can see where you're coming from."

A homeless man with a ragged white beard looked up as they walked past him. His eyes instantly focused on their collars. To him, they appeared as nothing more than some odd fashion statement that was the new 'thing' with the young crowd. But their faces seemed different. If he had a knack for anything, it was remembering faces, and these were certainly new. "'Scuse me, kiddos," he said, eyes squinted in the sun.

Ganta stopped and looked down. "Hm?" he responded. "You need something?"

Minatsuki tugged at his arm. She wanted to keep moving, to leave any parts of this behind. Staying to talk to a victim of the earthquake could only bring back bad memories. "Hey," she said, "let's keep going."

The old man hung his head. "Oh, I'm sorry," he continued. "I di'n't mean to bother ya. Ya just don't look like yer from around here."

"We uh..." Ganta cut himself off and looked at Minatsuki. "Yeah, we aren't. We're... new, I guess."

"New?" The old man chuckled, slowly bursting into a belly laugh. "No one's 'new' around here. We've been here since the Red Hole." He placed a hand on his knee and stood up. His legs, barely more than bone, shook as they supported his weight. "Kids..." His voice was hushed now, barely more than a whisper. He looked around like he was afraid of who might hear him. "If ya don't belong here, then ya shouldn't be here."

Minatsuki spoke up. "You think we want to be here?" she shouted. "We don't have anywhere else to go!" She wasn't technically lying. Even if they had a way to get in touch with someone they knew, who would take them in? There were far worse ramifications for harboring prisoners than actually escaping.

The man held his hands out in front of him. "Now, now. I'm sure you and your brother here have somewhere else you could be."

Ganta blinked his eyes rapidly. He and Minatsuki didn't exactly look alike, so how could they be mistaken for siblings?

"No," Minatsuki answered. "We're..." She paused, formulating a story in her head. "We're orphans." She hung her head, and her voice began to crack as if she were holding back tears. Ganta moved to correct him, but she elbowed him in the stomach. She had a plan, something they could go off of, and he wasn't going to ruin it for her. "Mom died just last week, so we've kind of just been... going places, y'know?"

The old man grumbled and licked his lips. "Yes, I know the feelin'. Lots of them people come through here these days." He looked to his side and grabbed a long stick of wood that leaned against his wall. "Well, if yer certain that this is yer home now, then come with me." He hunched his back, using the pole to support his weight. "I'll show ya where to find all the goodies."

He strode in the direction they came from. Minatsuki pulled on Ganta's arm, dragging him along for the ride. She wasn't sure where he was going, but the old man clearly knew _something_, and she wanted to know what. What were these 'goodies' he referred to? If they were lucky, he'd show them where they could find food, water, maybe even a place to sleep. She still felt exhausted from the day's events, and any amount of sleep would do her some good.

Ganta, however, still felt lost. His companion certainly adapted well, but there were still questions he wanted answered.

They walked on for a while. Past a few other similar-looking men, husks of flesh and bone scrounging by on anything they could get their hands on. One of them seemed to have found a meager cigarette. He desperately tried to extract whatever honey was left in the straw of tobacco and nicotine, even down to the last quarter-inch stub.

"Hey," Ganta whispered to Minatsuki. He kept his voice low, hoping the old man couldn't hear him. Even if he could, he didn't act like it.

"What?" she snapped.

"What's the deal? Why did you go along with him like that?"

She frowned. "I saw an advantage and I took it. There a problem with that?"

"Of course there is!" Part of him restrained laughter at how ridiculous a hushed yell sounded. "You lied to him! You're not my sister!"

She glared at him. "Look," she said with a matter-of-fact tone, "he's taking us to something. Maybe food, maybe drugs, I don't know. I don't care." She turned her gaze back in front. "What we need right now is a guide. This is new to both of us."

"That doesn't mean I have to lie to get ahead." He turned his own eyes forward and pouted.

She caught a glimpse of his expression out of her peripheral and snickered. "You never got the 'only the strong survive' speech from Muscleman, did you?" He thought about it for a moment, but couldn't recall anything quite like that. "Let me give you the jist of it: the world is a shit-hole. No one cares about you. Take matters into your own hands and fuck everyone else."

He looked at her. She had hung her head, bangs covering her eyes. "That's a pretty sad way to live, if you ask me."

She took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly through her lips. "It's how I've always lived. I'm used to it."

He almost wanted to press the issue. He still knew so little about her. There were the scars on her back and the odd personality split she showed, but that was it. Though, if they were going to survive in a wasteland together, there'd be plenty of time to figure her out. Right now, she was right. They needed to focus on themselves first, no matter how much he hated to admit it.

The old man stopped. Ganta accidentally ran into him from behind, but the man did not budge. He spun around on his staff. "This," he said, lifting a shaking hand toward the door before them, "is my hut. Yer welcome to stay here with me, if ya want."

Minatsuki spoke where Ganta did not. "That's very kind of you."

He chuckled. "'Sthe least I can do for a couple kids like yerselves." He wrapped his bony fingers around a small loop of rope masquerading as a handle and pulled the door open. The rusted hinges creaked in protest, but offered little resistance. He walked inside, and the pair of Deadmen followed behind him. "Ration truck comes by once a week," he uttered as he entered. "Pretty simple: ya take what ya need for the week. Dunno how much that'll be the first time, but they should bring more after that. 'Til then, can't help ya much but a scrap or two. Yer on yer own."

The inside of the hut was mostly barren. No flooring existed, leaving nothing but the desecrated dust of the earth on the ground. The walls were lined with metal sheets of various sizes and colors; most showed signs of unclean breaks, a testament to their past use. Even so, they left only one or two holes that could expose inhabitants to the elements. Of course, these holes were mostly used for lighting during the day. No electricity meant that the area had returned to a state of life resembling the feudal era.

A small, tattered mattress lay on the ground near one of the walls. "Tha's my bed," the old man said. "I can scrounge up another for ya, if ya want. There's a whole stock o' them not far from here." He pointed behind him with his thumb.

"Thanks," Ganta said, "but I think we're only staying here one night. We kinda want to get moving, so we'll find one." Minatsuki glared at him. He frowned at her, mouthing the words, "I'll explain later."

The old man nodded. "Responsible. Don't see much o' that these days. Alright, suit yerselves." He eyed the children up and down. "Looks like ya took a dip earlier. Might also find some rags to use 'til those dry out."

Ganta and Minatsuki had already begun their exit. "Thank you, again!" Minatsuki said cheerfully, dragging her companion by his arm. The old man waved in turn, disappearing behind a closed door. She immediately glared at Ganta once they were alone. "What's the big idea?" she shouted.

Ganta stared at her in confusion. "W-what did I do?" he mumbled.

She scoffed, walking in the direction the old man had pointed toward. "One night? That's seriously all we're taking?"

"What?" Ganta shrugged his shoulders. "You want us to stick around forever?"

"It's not like we have anywhere else to go!"

"So we find somewhere!" He raised his voice this time. Sometimes her stubbornness frustrated him, like he was arguing with a brick wall. "It's not like staying in these slums is going to help us hide!"

Right. She hadn't thought about that part, really. They were fugitives now, criminals on the run. God only knew how long they could last out here. Well, three days before the poison kicked in. Had they brought any candy with them? It probably didn't matter; it would've been lost to the sea if they had.

Minatsuki sighed in resignation. "I guess hanging out so close to the prison isn't exactly smart, huh?" She looked over her shoulder. He wasn't far behind her, and his brow remained furrowed, only dragging her further down. "Look," she muttered, "I know you're mad, but I'm just trying to be realistic."

"So am I," he said. "We can't sit around in the same place waiting for them to find us." He adjusted the collar on his neck. "Don't forget about these."

She hung her head again, eyes focused on her feet. "So we have three days, then. Either they find us or we die."

He hadn't thought about the poison, either. "Give or take, yeah. But... let's not worry about that right now." He walked up to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Let's make the most of what we have."

He continued ahead of her. She stood there, heart a little higher. Did he realize what he'd just said? More importantly, did he realize just how much it meant to her? Probably not. _Too block-headed to see his own hand in front of his face. _She couldn't help but giggle at her own joke.

Ganta rounded the corner of the short metal hut. Minatsuki followed close behind. Just as the old man had said, they were greeted by a pile of assorted debris and belongings. A great number of rags and torn scraps of cloth sat in their own pile. Minatsuki headed straight for them, eager to get out of her soaked and stained dress. She fell to her knees and dug through the collection of potential apparel, tossing rejection after rejection over her shoulder. Ganta managed to dodge most of the flying clothes, but was inevitably hit in the face. "You mind?" he asked as he pulled off the offending material.

She did not respond, continuing to throw garment after garment at him.

"Hey!"

"Huh?" She turned her head. Most of the pile she had already dug through now rested at his feet. "Oh. Um... sorry about that." She went back to her mound of cloth, making sure to restrain her throws this time.

Ganta was more interested in finding a bed. While there weren't piles of them like the clothes, there definitely was a wide variety of old belongings. He assumed that everything was for the taking, though it surprised him that so much was left after so long. Perhaps newcomers were as rare as the old man suggested. Nevertheless, he crouched to the ground and got to work.

So the two dug for what felt like hours. Maybe it _was_ hours. Neither of them could tell. The sun definitely moved, but that was all they knew. But they found what they were looking for, or at least enough to make do. Minatsuki had laid aside a few scraps that she thought she could mold into something presentable. They weren't ideal, but neither was her situation; she'd have to make do.

Ganta pulled a stained mattress out of the debris. A few tears in the fabric exposed its stuffing and springs, and the entire surface was colored off-white at best. He hoisted it onto his back and started to head back toward the hut's entrance. Minatsuki eyed the chosen bedding. "You're not taking that one are you?" she snapped.

"I didn't see any others," he answered. "This one'll have to do."

She growled behind clenched teeth. She might have been stuck in this hellhole for at least a day, and she might also have a set of rags that she was going to wear. _I still get to be a girl, dammit._

She started to follow him. Her feet fell out beneath her, and her face met the ground. She groaned, and Ganta turned to check on her. "You okay?" he asked.

Her face bore a small abrasion, but nothing serious. "Yeah. I'm fine. But what did I-" She turned her head back to catch a glimpse of the offending object: a pair of hedge trimmers, the dual blades extending at least six inches. She picked them up. "Seriously, who the fuck leaves a pair of hedge clippers around?!"

His eyes looked at the blades. An idea stirred in his head. He walked over and extended his hand. "Let me see those."

She raised an eyebrow, mouth slightly agape, but fulfilled his request. He opened and closed the hinge a few times. They were rusty and resisted each force he applied on them, yet they functioned at least decently. He opened the blades, facing the mouth toward her. "Hold your neck out," he commanded.

"The fuck are you-"

"Just do it." He ushered a smile across his face. "Trust me."

She did as she was told, facing her back toward him. He slid one open blade between her neck and the collar. The cold metal brought goosebumps to the surface of her skin. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Just hold still," he answered. "I think this might work." He actually had no idea, but he had to make her trust him somehow.

The collar fit snugly into the open mouth of the clippers. He forced the levers together, snapping the mouth shut over the metal. It strained and resisted his effort, but it still buckled. Minatsuki did her best to remain completely rigid.

Then she heard the snap.

Scraps of aluminum and wire fell off her shoulders and chest. Ganta watched in awe as the collar's remains collapsed between his clippers. Minatsuki brought her hands to her neck. Her fingers traced along the now bare skin, absorbing a sensation of touch she had not felt there in years. "It's... it's gone," she whispered. She smiled and stood, a tear tugging at the corner of her eye. "Holy shit, I can't believe it."

"Neither can I, honestly." Ganta held the clippers in front of his face, opening and closing them again. "Didn't actually think that would work."

_Blockhead to the max._ "Whatever, just... gimme the damn things and let me do yours."

He knelt before her, and she performed a similar ritual. His collar fell off as simply as hers, in a clump of metal and broken wires. He felt a surge of relief rush through him. Where earlier he felt something resembling freedom, now he was that much closer. No more tracking. No more poison. No more constant fear of death.

Minatsuki tossed the hedge clippers back into the heap of junk, sighing in contentment. "I feel better already," she chirped. She picked up her assortment of clothes selected from the piles of leftovers. "Come on, lazy. Get your ass in gear and let's get our shop set up!"

She charged ahead of him, and he hoisted the mattress on his back again. He was mostly glad to have just made her day, maybe her life, with a fluke. Something about him liked seeing her happy. _Better than the whole grim side she shows a lot._

Before he was even ready to follow behind her, she had rounded the corner. "Hey! Wait for me!"

* * *

The vendor behind the desk was wracking Yō's nerves. She sat there, lips smacking a stick of chewing gum, flipping through a tabloid magazine. Before he approached the counter, he found himself mesmerized by the bobbing of a small mole on her right cheek. All things considered, she might have actually been beautiful some years ago. As if that mattered now.

He had already tried to grab her attention multiple times. "Hey!" he shouted again, pounding his fist against the counter. "I'm talking to you!"

The woman looked up from her tabloid, cold eyes peering through the safety glass erected in front of her. She leaned forward to adjust her weight in her chair. The rim of her glasses fell down to her nose as she edged herself closer to the microphone on her desk. A nasal voice echoed from the speaker, "What can I do for you, sir?"

"I want to buy off my sentence," he replied sternly. He kept his posture rigid, shoulders back and exuding an aura of confidence. As far as he knew, no one had ever accumulated enough Cast to actually buy their way out of prison. Everyone ended up serving the term or dying before they could make it out. He could be the first. She might not believe him, but that didn't matter. She would soon enough.

She turned her attention to the prisoner number stitched onto his chest. "One moment, sir," she assured monotonously. _Another brat who thinks he has enough_, she thought, turning to the terminal sitting on her desk._ Just like the rest._ She keyed in the number and waited as the terminal loaded his records. "Looks like you're serving a ten year sentence here, young man," she said. "You have one year served, so you have to pay off nine."

_Right...,_ he said to himself. _Should be a little less than nine years. So just under ninety million._ He tried to recall how much his fox of a boss had paid him. Based on the payments, he should have right at what he needed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his stack of cards. Hopefully, the guards hadn't stolen all of it in the day-and-a-half they had them.

The woman scanned card after card, not taking note of the running total on her screen. Yō did.

She swiped the last one and glanced at the monitor. Her jaw fell open, and she slowly removed her glasses. Ninety million, plus a few thousand in change. "I don't believe it...," she whispered. Her shaking hand reached for the nearby phone and clicked a series of buttons. An operator answered. "Get me the warden," she commanded.

"Is there a problem?" Yō asked.

"Just need to confirm. No one's ever had enough to buy off their sentence before." Exactly as he expected, then. It was all about the motivation, in the end. He had more to fight for than just himself.

"Um... right," he replied. "I'll just go have a seat, then." He tried his best to keep his head cool, despite the raging storm of elation in his gut. _Keep that confidence. You knew it would work out, even if it wasn't the way you expected._

He sat and waited for a while, his eyes locked on the clock as a mild distraction from the silent monotony. If he weren't so excited, the sheer boredom might actually have put him to sleep. The woman behind the glass threw her arms around, seemingly in a fit of rage. Was it that big of a deal that he'd be paying off the entirety of his sentence? He had heard stories of ex-convicts. His name luckily was not plastered everywhere, but he doubted it would be too hard to re-integrate. There were more important things to focus on, anyway.

The woman called him back to the desk after a virtual eternity. He obliged, rising to his feet and leaning against the open side of the counter. "You're all clear," the woman sneered. She slipped a small note under an opening in the glass pane between them. "Take this to the med-bay. They'll remove your collar and show you out."

Yō thanked her and headed toward the med-bay. She rolled her eyes, growling in disgust. In all of her years, she never thought that she would be the one to set a prisoner free.

His footsteps pounded against the floor at a sprinter's pace. It was official. He would be free. _Not even a year_, he thought,_ and I already can't wait_ _to bail this place. Kinda funny, actually. _Pangs of regret clutched at his heart for giving up his chance at legitimately freeing Minatsuki. But he had to protect her, first. He had to know she was alive. After that, he could worry about what his next move was.

* * *

The sun had long since set over the slums of the Tokyo wasteland. Darkness settled over the dusted earth, bringing with it a cold and bitter wind to chill whatever souls lingered in the night. Even those lucky enough to be sheltered were not entirely spared; the wind cut through even the smallest holes in their walls of metal.

Ganta had laid the mattress out on the ground next to one of the walls, making sure it did not lie downwind from any of the holes. The old man had already gone to sleep, passed out from what he presumed was exhaustion and a decently sized meal for someone who was technically homeless. His stomach protested against that, of course. It growled, yearning for more fulfillment. He assumed that hunger was one of those feelings he'd get used to, though it probably wasn't the best for him after not eating all day.

A wide yawn escaped his mouth. 'Eventful' wasn't strong enough to describe what had happened that day. They had escaped the most notorious prison system on the planet. They found this place, not to mention the old man who so graciously offered them a place in his home. He had seen a side of Minatsuki he never expected.

That thought drifted through his mind a few times. He still was not sure what to make of this double personality, nor did he know which one was the real her. She claimed that the violent side wasn't her. But could he trust her, especially after all the little moments since their escape where she acted differently? He chalked it up to her most common facade being a mixture of the two. It seemed like a reasonable assumption.

Still... it bothered him. Perhaps more than it should. He harbored a strange, almost cat-like curiosity for her, and he knew the ending of that story all too well.

He rolled over on the ground, flipping onto his stomach. Minatsuki had claimed the bed for herself, even though it was easily big enough for two. He decided that it was in his best interest to not fight her over it, though. The ground definitely wasn't the best sleeping spot, but it would have to make do. As far as he was concerned, they were only here for the night, and tomorrow would bring a better offering.

A shiver cascaded down his spine and through his limbs. It was a sensation he was becoming all too familiar with on this cold night. Being stuck in the same wet pair of clothes all day probably was a mistake, in hindsight. He sat up, eyes adjusting to the darkness. Maybe there were some spare rags Minatsuki had set aside that he could use as blankets.

He managed to find a few scraps of cloth that seemed usable. While they were definitely thin, it would be better than nothing.

"Ganta?" That familiar, croaking groan again. Minatsuki sat up from her mattress, rubbing one eye with her fist. "The hell are you doing at this hour?"

He re-assumed his position on the ground. "Was picking up something to use as a blanket," he answered. "It's cold. Don't worry about it, just get some sleep." He let loose another yawn. "We have a lot of ground to cover tomorrow."

She collapsed onto the mattress, falling into a state of half-slumber. Her mind stayed active enough to think about the little chat they just shared. Where were they going? What kind of future was in store for them? Would they stick together or end up hating each other? She didn't know, and she was too tired to ponder anything too heavily. But the last question rang particularly true; she didn't want him to hate her.

"You can have the bed tomorrow," she said, not moving from her position.

He chuckled. "Whatever you say."

She took that as a yes and drifted back to sleep.

He laid still in the silence, trying to stave off what he could of the cold. It proved futile, but he slowly adjusted to the temperature. Once his body had acclimated, he finally found a comfortable enough position to wander into his own dreams. He thought about what tomorrow might bring. About what kind of dangers they might face.

And he smiled.

"Doesn't matter," he whispered to himself. "Aceman'll come and save the day."

* * *

_Ganta's gone. He's not here anymore. Lost. Escaped. How did he do it?_

_The same way we did. Not that it matters. We must find him. He's still important to us, yes?_

_Yeah. I just... want to spend time with him again. I miss him. It hurts._

_Don't worry, child. I'll make the pain go away. I always do._

The girl flashed a smile at an elderly man posing as her grandfather. Sadistic. Neurotic. Destructive.

He launched a flurry of bloodstreams at her.

She exploded with power, dodging each attack. It came to her naturally.

One well-placed kick... and he was dead. Head knocked clean off his shoulders.

He had destroyed the chamber of glass surrounding her suit. She gazed at its tattered crimson cloth in wonder. A costume, nothing more, but still a symbol of what incredible power she wielded.

She donned the mask and cloak. It was all she would need for this mission. He was in trouble, she just knew it.

_Don't worry, Ganta. Aceman's coming to save you._


End file.
